


Dust Settles

by wesleysgirl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleysgirl/pseuds/wesleysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for KellyHK.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dust Settles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for KellyHK.

  
  
" _FUCK!_ " Spike's voice rang out in the basement of the ruined building, and Angel slapped a bloodied   
hand over his mouth.  
  
"Shut up," Angel said sharply, taking his hand away and looking down at Spike's still-crooked leg. "Or   
do you want somebody to know we're down here?"  
  
Spike was breathing, each exhale a pained whimper that dissolved into the air like smoke. "What   
bloody difference does it make?" he asked, shifting his body and stifling the accompanying cry.   
"They're gonna find us sooner or later."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'd rather it was later, if you don't mind." Angel got up, wiping his hands on his slacks   
and mentally counting the hours until the sun would go down.  
  
They'd lost Wes first, of course. Looking back, Angel knew they'd lost him when Fred had completed   
her strange metamorphosis into Illyria. Wesley hadn't changed right along with her, not exactly,   
but that had been when he'd slipped over the line, and Angel wasn't sure that anything would have   
ever been enough to pull him back.  
  
Gunn and Illyria had both died in the alley, with the rain pouring down. One minute Gunn had been   
standing there, and the next he was on the pavement, totally still, unblinking despite the rain that  
fell directly into his opened eyes. It had reminded Angel, for a second, of Darla, and the night   
Connor was born.  
  
"You gonna give this another shot, or what?" Spike asked, interrupting his train of thought.  
  
"It's in pieces, Spike," Angel said wearily, looking at Spike's leg again.  
  
"Yeah, well, so was my spine, once, and that healed up all right," Spike said.  
  
"And how long did it take?" Angel asked. "Months. It doesn't matter how many times I try to   
straighten it out, it's still not going to heal overnight. Even if you had unlimited blood." He   
didn't need to point out that they didn't. Wouldn't.  
  
They were both quiet for a while. "How many do you think there were?" Spike asked.  
  
Angel didn't want to talk about it. "Too many," he said reluctantly. "Thousands. Tens of thousands."  
  
Spike nodded. He looked small, broken, on his back but with his weight hitched up onto his   
elbows. "How far you think it went?"  
  
That, Angel didn't want to talk _or_ think about. He decided to give yanking Spike's leg bones back   
into place another shot instead, since, if nothing else, it'd shut Spike up. Well, stop him talking   
about things Angel didn't want to talk about, at least.  
  
Going back over and kneeling down, Angel ran his hand lightly up the inside of Spike's thigh,   
concentrating on feeling the bones without jarring them. As his hand neared the top of the   
seam, Spike tilted his head and gave Angel a strange grin. "Angel. You getting fresh with me?"  
  
"You'd know if I was," Angel said, letting one fingertip brush the underside of Spike's balls   
very deliberately and watching as Spike's eyes narrowed. He took advantage of that   
moment of distraction to grab hold of Spike's leg just above the knee and *pull*, adding   
a twist of his wrist that slid the bone back into alignment and made Spike scream, head   
tipped back and tendons in his throat standing out. Like the last time, Angel reached out   
his other hand and clapped it over Spike's mouth, effectively cutting off most of the sound.  
  
He let go of Spike's leg first, then uncovered his mouth. Spike's scream had faded into   
something more strangled by then, his eyes glaring at Angel like he blamed him for   
everything that had ever happened. Maybe he did. Angel couldn't really be mad at him   
for it.  
  
"Here," Angel said, moving over behind Spike, shoving himself into the space between   
Spike and the wall and letting Spike lean against him. It had to be more comfortable   
than the concrete, and Angel didn't like hearing anyone making sounds like the ones   
Spike was making, pained sounds with every breath he didn't need to be taking.  
  
Okay, so maybe he did like hearing them, but he didn't _want_ to like hearing them.  
  
"Didn't know you cared," Spike said, turning his face into Angel's chest.  
  
"I don't," Angel said, holding him. "I just want you to shut up."  
  
There couldn't be much left of L.A. at that point. They'd fought all night until the first  
rays of sunshine creeping into the streets had driven them inside, underground, and   
had been here ever since, but that didn't mean they hadn't been able to hear it. The   
screaming, the sounds of buildings collapsing.  
  
Spike must have been thinking along the same lines Angel was, because he said, "Like   
the end of the world."  
  
"Yeah," Angel said.  
  
"Think we can stop it?" Spike asked.  
  
Angel sighed, settling a hand on Spike's chest where he'd have been able to feel a   
heartbeat if Spike had one. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to lie and reassure   
you?"  
  
"Yeah, but you've gone and fucked it up now," Spike said, his voice slightly muffled   
against Angel's torn shirt.  
  
"What else is new?" Angel had been fucking things up for years. Even this, or what had   
started it, had been his idea.  
  
It was quiet for a while, or mostly quiet. They could still hear faint sounds of the battle,   
if you could even call it battle. It was more like the slaughter of innocents. Then Spike   
said, "Yeah."  
  
"Yeah, what?" Angel asked.  
  
"Yeah, this'd be the part where you reassure me."  
  
Angel leaned down and inhaled the scent of Spike's hair -- blood and sweat and bile, demon   
smells. Death smells, right and wrong at the same time. "As soon as your leg heals up, we're   
going to get out of here and end this. You and me. Take down the bad guys and put everything   
back the way it's supposed to be." He didn't even know if he could figure out what that was anymore.  
  
"Angel?" Spike said.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"You're a bloody awful liar."  
  
Angel smiled faintly. "Tell me something I don't know."  
  
He thought that maybe he'd finally shut Spike up, but then Spike cleared his throat. "Glad   
you're here," Spike said.  
  
That didn't mean anything, of course.  
  
But it was, just maybe, better than nothing.  
  
  
  
End.


End file.
